From One LA to the Other
by RgjIrishdancr
Summary: Boondocks, private beach condos, surfboards, and smuggled weapons—what better vacation? Hetty's team joins forces with the D.C. crew and Hawaii Five-0 to take down an arms smuggling ring stretching from Los Angeles to Lower Alabama. Action/Friendship/Humor/Character Study-Full description inside. All teams have appeared on NCIS:LA T for violence ONLY (occasional very mild language)
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. I'm simply borrowing them for a while...**

**Expanded Description**

Hetty's team joins forces with the D.C. crew and Hawaii Five-0 to take down an arms smuggling ring stretching from Los Angeles to Lower Alabama. Posing as a group of military family and friends vacationing on the Gulf Coast, the teams launch an extended semi-undercover operation. With 15 agents from 3 different parts of the U.S. in one 6-bedroom beach house taking orders from 8 different people with varying authority (Callen, Gibbs, McGarret, Hetty, Granger, Vance, Governor of Hawaii, and SecNav Porter), things are bound to get interesting. Add weapons smugglers, moonshiners, hurricane hunters, and redneck BATFE agents, and you have a recipe for one crazy "vacation"!

**Genre**

Action, Friendship, Humor, Character Study

**Rating**

T (TV-14 as are all the shows) for violence and subject. This story will contain only _extremely_ _mild_ language and _no_ adult content.

A/N on rating: Unlike many of my stories, this will not be dark; instead, this will be focused on action and humor.

**Characters**

NCIS: Los Angeles: Hetty Lange, G. Callen, Sam Hanna, Kensi Blye, Marty Deeks (and Monty), Eric Beale, Nell Jones

NCIS: Jethro Gibbs, Tony Dinozzo, Timothy McGee, Ellie Bishop

Hawaii Five-0: Steve McGarret, Danny Williams, Chin Ho Lee, Kono Kalakaua, Catherine Rollins

**Time**

NCIS: Los Angeles—Season 5

NCIS—Season 11

Hawaii Five-0—speculative end of Season 4 (Kono and Catherine are both Five-0).

**Location**

Gulf of Mexico region (Mississippi, Alabama, Louisiana, Florida)

**Point of View**

Third person limited with thoughts in first person; mainly Nell's point of view but may have excursions into Callen, Deeks, or Tony as situations require.

**Chapter 1**

The sun set in brilliant hues of red and orange at the horizon of a treed ribbon of interstate. Since most truckers had abandoned I-55 in search of food, the black Excursion finally had ample room to maneuver, much to the relief of its driver. G. Callen shrugged his shoulders and glanced towards his navigator riding shotgun. The red-headed analyst blinked a few times and rubbed her eyes before glancing around to get her bearings. "Hey, Nell, any idea how far out we are?" the agent at the wheel asked quietly. Nell inclined her head towards a large green sign. "Next exit."

"Are we there yet?" a sleepy voice inquired from the third row. Marty Deeks attempted to reposition without disturbing the thoroughly asleep mutt whose head and limbs had slowly migrated into the detective's lap.

"Five minutes at the most, Deeks," Nell replied. Directly in front of Deeks, Sam Hanna had also opted to catch a cat-nap en route, while on the other side of the back seat, Kensi Blye drifted in and out of sleep. Only Eric Beale in front of her was fully awake, immersed in a video game on his tablet. "Probably better start waking everybody up."

"Sam. Hey, Sam," Callen called quietly. The SEAL straightened up and met Callen's eye in the rearview mirror. "Almost there." his partner explained. Sam tapped Eric on the shoulder, and the techie glanced over. "Find a stopping place, Eric, we're almost there."

In the back seat, Kensi stretched and glanced forward towards the team leader in the driver's seat. "Okay, I'm awake, cut it out Deeks…"

"That's not me kicking you, Kensalina, it's your furry seatmate," the shaggy surfer replied.

Kensi glanced down to see Monty running in his sleep, a furry paw smacking into her thigh.

Eric closed his tablet and removed his headphones, stuffing them into a backpack at his feet. "Okay, I'm done."

"And, thank goodness, so is the drive," Nell announced as Callen rolled down his window and swiped the access card Hetty had given him. The large gates in the brick wall swung open, revealing a curved, palmetto-lined private drive leading to a large house. Directly in front of the gate, a gently sloping grass hill led down to a sea wall, revealing a spectacular view of the golden sun reflecting of an expanse of white sand and settling into the glittering Gulf of Mexico.

"Oh man, Eric," Deeks breathed, "Hetty wasn't kidding about those waves."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

16 hours earlier—4 am local time. Nell Jones' residence, Los Angeles, CA.

Nell woke up at early o'clock, as her mom would say, to the sound of her work phone ringing. Unceremoniously slinging an arm across her bed, she snagged the offending device and answered the call. "Nell Jones."

"Good morning, Miss Jones," Hetty replied. "I am truly sorry to rout you from your bed at such an hour, but I have just received word of a timely development in a case we are tracking from our friends in Hawaii."

"The arms dealing case."

"Correct. Five-0 has just decrypted information indicating that the main city of import into the contiguous United States is, oh dear, Bye Locksi Mississippi?"

Nell resisted the urge to laugh. "B'luxi. Home of Keesler Air Force Base, home of the Air Force Hurricane Hunters."

"Precisely, Miss Jones. And by directive of Secretary Porter, you are about to embark on a group field trip. Apparently, this case is determined significant enough to require a collaboration with the D.C. crew as well as Five-0. Anyways, I need you here as soon as possible for a skeleton briefing before I send you all back home to pack."

"Understood, Hetty. I'm on my way."

5:30 am, NCIS Office of Special Projects, Los Angeles, CA.

Nell and Eric had just put the finishing touches on the backstopping for _way_ too many aliases when the rest of the team dragged themselves into Ops. Hetty followed just behind her sleepy agents, silently hoping none of them would strangle each other before the day, let alone the month, was over. "Miss Jones."

"We have received notification courtesy of Hawaii Five-0 that a gang of arms dealers we have been monitoring is shipping their arms into the contiguous U.S. through here," and she tossed a map onto the big screen, "Biloxi, Mississippi."

"By order of SecNav," Granger put in as he stepped into Ops, "you are headed for a joint task force on an extended undercover op."

Hetty shot him a warning look. "Miss Jones, details only please, we're rushed for time."

"Okay, details. We're going to Biloxi. Gibbs team and Five-0 are meeting us there. Pack clothes for a week, we'll have a washer and dryer. Bring street clothes and beach items. Identities are military brats or retired military, so you may dress accordingly. Hetty, what did I miss?"

"You are going to a beach house on vacation. Mr. Beale, Mr. Deeks, Miss Jones? Bring your surfboards. Mr. Deeks, you may bring our canine associate along as well; he will lend an air of authenticity and could be useful."

"Umm, how long are we looking at? I need to know how much dog food to bring."

"I have secured your location for a month with ability to extend beyond that. However, you should be able to purchase whatever is required nearby, so a few days worth should be sufficient, Mr. Deeks."

"We have a flight out of Pendelton at 10 to Meridian Naval Air station. We're driving from there," Nell added.

"Miss Jones and Mr. Beale will conduct a full briefing once all teams have arrived on location. Have a good trip."

6 pm Central Time, The Beach House, Biloxi, MS.

Nell had spent much of the transit time pouring over floor plans and discussing logistics with Callen. But even the floor plans Hetty had provided didn't do the majestic beach house justice. The private drive would around behind the house to the underground garage, which contained a row of neatly parked vehicles with 3 additional spaces. As Callen parked the Excursion, Nell put on her teacher voice and called, "Okay, everybody, listen up! You may exit the car and retrieve your luggage, but then await further instructions. They're from Hetty, so don't shoot the messenger!"

"D.C. team is an hour out, Five-0 maybe fifteen minutes behind them," Callen updated.

"That's enough time to work with."

The agents and Monty piled out and unloaded the SUV. "Okay, we're taking the tour to familiarize with our territory," Nell stated. "I quote, You may leave all personal possessions in your assigned rooms until all teams have arrived, at which point full briefing and instructions will be given, end quote. Okay, this is the garage, obviously. Only other means of entrance or exit is the door over there, which opens outside from the stairwell." Nell lead the way towards the far end of the garage. "Don't ogle the cars, Deeks, I don't know which ones Hetty has assigned to who. On your left is the mudroom, which should really be called the sandroom; beyond that is the full bath for use cleaning up from outside. More on those rooms later. Upstairs," by this point she was halfway up, "ground floor is living area, top floor is bedrooms et cetera." She ran out of things to say, which was just fine considering she wasn't entirely sure she had words upon first look at the living areas. The stairs ascended into the spacious kitchen, which opened over a bar into the dining room. A grand staircase divided them from the living room, with a pantry tucked underneath. The entire ocean side of the house, along with the dining room and living room's outer walls, were floor to ceiling windows opening onto the private beach. The tasteful, casual furnishing pulled tones from the ocean, with a honey-sand wood tone and sea foam green predominating the color scheme.

Once the team had taken in the view, Nell continued upstairs. Around the staircase, an O-shaped balcony provided access to the bedrooms. "Rec room's in the back, underground, more on that later." Nell lead to the front-most door on the right. "Kensi, you're in there with Kono and Catherine. Five-0 boys are right over there," she gestured to a door directly across the stairwell, accessable by the balcony, "so they're just a few steps from their team." Kensi's door was one side of a U-shaped inlet, with a door on each side. Nell next opened the door in on the left, leading into the bedroom and depositing her luggage along a wall. "Ellie and I are in here. Deeks, Eric, you get the corner room, with an ocean view. Both rooms open into the Rec room, which I will get to in just another minute." She stepped back out and lead to the other side of the O, which was a mirror image. She opened the room analogous to Eric and Deeks'; "Sam, Callen. D.C. guys are next door, and Five-0 in the front. Okay, the mysterious Rec room." Nell used the communicating door to enter the room from Sam and Callen's. One side of the Rec room was a home theater, complete with projector screen, while the other was lined with desks separated in the center by another projector screen. "Our MTAC on one side, tech ops on the other. MTAC side closet is D.C. armory, Ops side is ours. Five-0 has a closet armory off their boy's room. Hetty says to get the armory and Ops set up before the other teams get here," "Which is in 45 minutes," Eric finished. "Let's get cracking."


	3. Chapter 3

**Long A/N** Alright, now I need some reader input, specifically on vehicles. Every member of the joint team needs a vehicle, in addition to the surveillance van and 3 SUVs for group transport. Hetty's requirements are three-fold: first, the cars can't be terribly uncommon (they would stick out); second, they can't be terribly expensive; third, cannot look very similar to a dark Dodge Charger or a light Chevy Tahoe (Mississippi State Troopers use unmarked black Chargers and silver Tahoes; they don't want to spook anybody who has a guilty conscience). I know I haven't gone into great detail about their covers; the pertinent part is that the teams are all ex-military or military brats who work for the military or government contractors. Since this may be an extended Op, their personalities remain the same. I've already identified the L.A. team vehicle as an Excursion; the Camaro will (predictably) go to Danny, and I'm thinking the Civic for Catherine, though I could be persuaded otherwise. The most pertinent person in need of a vehicle is Nell; she can't drive a Mini Cooper because of the unusual factor. After her, Deeks or Eric, Gibbs, and Chin need theirs. I'll be adding more info on their covers etc. in the next few chapters, so feel free to wait to suggest cars for the others until then (I'll remind you).

**Short A/N**: Please bear with one more semi-boring chapter; Hetty's briefing is very, very important. After that, things get interesting. Like, a fight over a sick Nell, involving a slightly hung-over Deeks, a really hung-over Tony, and a very, very ticked off Ellie, and broken up and dealt with a more-than-slightly hung-over Callen.

**Retro-added A/N**: The plot bunnies took over and inserted a bit of Neric fluff before the briefing. Enjoy!

**Chapter 3**

7:15 pm Central Time, The Beach House, Biloxi, MS

Nell fiddled nervously with her headset, her unease growing with each unfamiliar face filing into the seating gallery. Hetty and Granger stood by in LA, and Vance in DC, for the joint team to get settled. Eric stepped to her side, noting his partner's discomfort. "Hey, Nell, breathe."

She glanced passingly in his direction. "Eric…" came the weak protest.

"Look at me." Hazel eyes met green, and Eric could see the panic rising behind her golden flecked irises. When they were calm, he could easily lose himself…_Not now, Eric. Focus._ "C'mon, partner, you need a break." Without giving the stubborn redhead a chance to protest, Eric grabbed her elbow and steered her into the side hall.

"Eric! I have sound to check and video to confirm and I need to test the clicker and the briefing—"

Eric cut her off, holding his finger to his lips. "McGee and Bishop are _perfectly_ capable of handling everything you just listed off, and most of what you didn't get to. You," and he poked her lightly in the shoulder, "need to chill out before you start hyperventilating."

Nell's eyes brimmed with tears for a second, and Eric knew she was in the volatile loop of panic—terror—self-doubt. Or, as Nell described it to him once, _that's a ton of work…that's waaaaay too much work…no way can I possibly do all that!_ "Hey, Rockstar. You got this."

He slipped an arm around her and gently rubbed her shoulder.

She reached up and laid her hand over his, her head dropping onto his shoulder. Eric tried to estimate how long she had been awake, besides too long. She had been in Ops with everything booted up when he got there at five freakin' fifteen that morning.

He dropped his head over to gently rest on hers. "Nell," he whispered gently, "I've got your back."

These were the moments Nell wished she could capture in a mason jar and hold onto forever. Eric was always there for her. He was the yin to her yang, the calm to her panic and the panic to her calm, the partner who read her like computer code, who was strongest in her broken places. She leaned a little more into his side, soaking in the feeling of safety that came whenever she was in Eric's arms. "And I've got yours, Eric," she whispered back.

He slowly rubbed his thumb over her fingers in response, feeling her pulse slow the rest of the way to normal. Eric reluctantly picked his head back up and gently squeezed Nell's shoulders. She slowly removed her head from his shoulder, the determination returning to her face as she met his quiet smile. "Ready for this, Unnonoctium?"

She smirked. "Let's do this, Wolfram."

And so they were standing a respectable distance away from each other, though his arm was still around her shoulders, when the door popped open and a young face framed in blond waves poked through. Nell smiled invitingly, and the door opened the rest of the way. "Hi. Ellie Bishop."

"Nell Jones and Eric Beale," Nell replied, and Eric took the opportunity to drop his arm back to his side. "Ready to start the briefing?"

"McGee said we were ready to roll in 5."

As Bishop turned around, Eric reached over and gave Nell their traditional low-five-fist-bump. "Go wow 'em, Jones."

"You got it, Beale."

Nell jammed her headset back in, barely catching herself before she stuck a finger up into her ponytail. The last thing she needed was three of the most elite teams in military law enforcement to see her twirling her hair. Man, was she tired. Which, of course, meant that she _could not_ stop fidgeting. When McGee called her away from the tabletop she was drumming her fingers on (a mannerism she had picked up from Eric) she switched to rubbing her left thumb and index finger together. When he shoved a wireless keyboard in her hand, she kicked her left leg over and started quietly scratching the toe of her shoe against the flooring. Finally, Callen gave the OK (noting that his female analyst was fixing to start climbing the walls if they didn't get the show on the road) and Hetty, Granger, and Vance appeared on the screen. With all the attention _finally_ off her, Nell collapsed into a rolly swivel chair and settled into a position that allowed her to fidget without anyone noticing. Besides Eric, of course, but he understood. Right? _Right, moron_.

"Thank you all for gathering so hastily," Hetty began, "Yes, Mr. Beale?"

Eric lowered his hand. "Could we try and keep this briefing, um, brief?" The snickering from the seating put everyone at ease. "'Cause none of us have had supper."

"Certainly, we can try, Mr. Beale. I wouldn't want to inflict bodily harm by starvation on my team before the op has even gotten off the ground." Vance shared a sour look with Granger, while McGarrett met Callen's gaze with a smirk. Nell resisted the urge to roll her eyes at Eric. Barely.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this briefing will have three main parts: the case, the covers, and the living arrangements. First. The case. Mr. Beale, Miss Jones, bring the team up to speed."

The butterflies returned to Nell's stomach as she stood up next to Eric. Sensing her unease, he took first pitch. "Meet Anwar Siliezar. He's an arms dealer who has been kicked out of any decent country and is currently hiding out somewhere in the middle of a Mexican desert. His dealing, however, is still going strong, we suspect due to this man,"

"Jorge Gonzales," Nell took over. "He's Siliezar's right hand man and an extremely difficult person to catch. We also suspect he is the man responsible for coordinating the transport of arms from Hawaii to the United States, through right here in Biloxi."

"We have been unable to trace the weapons past Biloxi, and local LEOs have noticed no uptick in crime."

"Which means that either they're really, really hiding their transport well,"

"Or they're using an infrastructure that's already in place," Eric finished.

"The local BATFE office has scheduled an interview for the day after tomorrow to update you on any information pertinent to the case. Until then, your mission is to get settled and get to know each other," Hetty concluded. "Moving on to covers. Nell, Eric?"

"Got 'em, Hetty," Eric replied, pulling a stack of thick envelopes from a box. Each was assigned a name in Hetty's hand. Eric grabbed his and Nell's before passing the stack on to Callen.

"These are your identities and other things I will discuss in a minute. You all have new IDs, credit cards, and insurance cards. You also have a paper detailing your cover story which I expect you to read separately. No need to waste time going over all of them now. Also in that envelope is a locker key for one of the lockers in the basement. Mr. Deeks, your second key is for your canine companion's locker. I expect all your personal effects to be picked up for the remainder of your stay. The lockers are for things like outside shoes, gear, and surfboards that do not readily stay in closets.

"Seeing as we have three teams gathered here, kitchen duties will be divided with each team taking two days a week. The remaining day can be left-overs and eating out. Kitchen duties entail providing three square meals and cleaning up all dishes. I think it is wise for a couple of you to pick up some pizza for tonight due to the lateness of the hour, if that is agreeable?"

A chorus of nods answered Hetty's question. "Oh, and one more thing? Try to stay out of trouble."

Gibbs made a slashing motion across his throat to McGee as Hetty and Vance signed off. "Okay, I volunteer my team for kitchen duties tomorrow and Bishop to get the pizza."

"Fine by me," Callen replied. "Nell, why don't you go with her; you know what we like."

"Cath, you wanna go to?" McGarett asked.

"Sure thing."

"We can take our SUV," Nell volunteered, "It has a GPS."

"Chin and I will take care of getting the dishes set," Kono commented.

"Help them, DiNozzo."

"On it, boss. Will work for pizza!"

xxxxxxxxxxxx

"I'll take the back," Catherine volunteered when the women reached the Excursion. "Where should we go?"

"I was thinking a grocery was our best bet," Nell replied. "It should have pizza and drinks and something we can grab for dessert."

"Fine by me," Ellie agreed. "Anything chocolate sounds awesome right now."

Nell laughed. "You sound like you suffer from working with all men. I at least have Kensi who gets that sort of thing, and Sam's married."

"Kono and I commiserate about all the testosterone," Catherine added.

"Well, I grew up with a pack of brothers, so it isn't exactly new, but I still wish I had another girl around. Sometimes I just have to run down and see Abby. How much do you see of Kensi, Nell, with her in the field and you in tech?"

"Not enough, sometimes, but usually she's around. And Hetty at least knows to make allowances for stuff. Eric's really sweet about it too; he can tell when I'm having a bad day and'll sneak me in oreos or something."

"I can't decide which is worse: the pack of guys you work with not knowing and just thinking you're randomly acting like a jerk, or them knowing and treating you like a hand grenade."

Catherine sighed. "I've got it half and half, and honestly I think it depends on the guy. Steve always gave me space even before he really knew, and Chin's plenty patient even without knowing. Danny will be a…um…"

"Jerk?" Nell supplied.

"Good enough, even if he did know. But he has been married, so who knows, maybe he does."

"I would think Gibbs has put two and two together, Ellie, he's a highly trained federal agent who's been married four times."

The blonde analyst banged the back of her head against the headrest in frustration. "It's not Gibbs who's the problem."

"You can't fix stupid, unfortunately," Catherine deadpanned.

"You've never spent 8 hours locked in a can with DiNozzo."

"Nope, just with Deeks," Nell retorted.

"At least Deeks can keep his mouth shut."

"Yeah, with duct tape," Nell shot back. "Sorry. It's been a long day."

"No problem, totally." Ellie replied. "Same here."

Nell parked the Excursion and headed towards the store. Catherine dropped behind Ellie a bit so she was walking beside Nell. "You okay? You sound like you have something on your mind."

"Not here," Nell replied quietly. "Ask me tonight."

Catherine smiled and moved up to somewhat between Nell and Ellie.

"What's the agenda, guys?" Ellie asked.

"Um, pizzas, soda, beer, dessert, disposable dishes, and a girl-food stash," Nell replied.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**A/N**: For you guys who were bored to death with the girl-talk, unfortunately there's some more. I promise, surfing and hung-over brawls starting in chapter 5!  
The beginning of the conversation between Nell and Catherine came from a similar conversation I had with a friend this morning. It is somewhat humorous if more-than-slightly awkward.

The pizzas had been devoured and the paper plates thrown out downstairs, dinner conversation replaced with relaxed hanging out as most of the joint force sipped beers. Nell slipped upstairs, a genuine IBC root beer in hand, wordlessly giving her partner permission to drink as much as he wanted. Everyone in the living area was starting to get a slight buzz, and she decided to get out while the getting and memories were good.

"Oh, hi Nell," Ellie greeted her, looking up from the center of an array of files. "I though Gibbs said no alcohol upstairs."

"Root beer," Nell replied.

"Sorry."

"It's fine. You want one? It's the best root beer ever, and you can only find it in the south." Nell grinned, "We used to have to take a whole case to my brother wherever he was stationed."

"I'm good," Bishop replied. "Thought you'd be hanging out for a while yet, sorry about the mess."

"No, I decided to let Eric have as much as he wanted for once." Ellie cocked a questioning eyebrow. _Darnit, me and my big mouth_.

"Usually we head out after a beer or so. I don't drink much, and Eric likes to leave when I do, so we go hang out, play video games or whatever."

"You don't drink root beer or something?" Ellie noticed the brief look that crossed Nell's face. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't pry."

"No, you're good, I shouldn't be so sensitive." Nell sat down on a bed. "It's just, my dad was alcoholic at one point, and people who are tipsy or worse make me nervous, even now. Simple classical conditioning."

Ellie nodded. "I think Catherine's already up here, too. I mean, I don't want to throw you out, but,"

"You'd like a little peace and quiet to finish up. No problem, I needed to talk to her anyways."

"You always finish people's sentences?"

"Depends on the person." Nell slipped out the door before she could further embarrass herself. _That could have gone better_.

She knocked softly on Kensi, Kono, and Catherine's door. "C'min," came Catherine's reply.

"Oh, hi Nell. Kono's in the shower, but we should have some privacy for a while yet. Come in, sit down. What's on your mind?"

Nell settled onto the bed next to Catherine. "Um, just a warning, this is going to be kind of awkward."

The brunette laughed. "I work with my boyfriend who has arguable anger issues, his smart-mouthed partner who definitely has anger issues, and a pair of cousins, one of whom is currently on a hair-trigger while the other one is trying to figure out what's wrong. I specialize in awkward, Nell."

"Okay then." Nell sighed inwardly. "How do you tell if you…have a crush on a guy?"

Catherine dropped her head back and studied the ceiling. "That…that's a hard question. I mean…wow, okay, I was not expecting that. That's a really good question. Well, I guess if you, like, find yourself thinking about him all the time."

"I think about everything all the time," Nell replied hesitantly.

"That an analyst thing?"

_Well, considering you've already bared your soul to her, Jones_… "Maybe. I mean, not really." _Just say it. Eric would tell you that those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind_. "I kinda...I have borderline ADD."

"Oh, okay, that makes sense. Well, if you thought about him, being in a relationship with another girl, how would that make you feel?"

_Eric, in a relationship with another girl? Who? Eric's not looking for a girlfriend. He doesn't want to have to lie to someone_.

"What if…I know that's not in the picture for him right now."

"Forget that for a second. What if it was?"

_How would that make me feel?_ The spark of anger, no, **protectiveness**, in her heart should have been all the answer she needed. But Nell Jones is good at denial.

Apparently, not as good as Catherine Rollins is at reading people. "I think you just answered your own question."

Nell growled and kicked at the empty room.

"I take it that's not the answer you were looking for?"

"It seems like…calling it a crush would be…"

"Demeaning?" Catherine asked.

"Yeah, sorta. It's stupid really, but it was always a nice way to get out of those awkward getting-to-know-you exercises where you have to go around the circle and say something like your least favorite vegetable, and someone makes the question your first crush. Never had one, plain and simple."

"Well, that explains some things."

"Your words said one thing, and your tone said something else."

Catherine held up her hands in mock-surrender. "That probably brings up more questions than it answers."

"Such as…"

"You're actually inviting me to discuss your love life?"

"Lack of love life would be more accurate, which is why I don't mind discussing it. Nothing there means nothing to be ashamed of."

Catherine rolled her eyes. "I interview people—suspects—for a living. Don't think I can't tell when someone is lying."

For some reason, Nell was feeling invincible, and contrary, tonight. Probably had something to do with Catherine starting to sound a lot like Nate. "And?"

"You, Nell Jones, are lying through your teeth. Doing a pretty good job of it, too. But not good enough that I can't tell you have something to be ashamed of in your so-called lack of love life."

Now Nell rolled her eyes. "You're bluffing."

"You're bluffing. I'm fishing. Look, if you don't want to talk about it, that's fine, but you invited me to join this conversation."

"Were there guys—men—in your life, before Steve?"

"Uh, yeah, duh."

Nell sighed. "There are no guys in my past. I mean, not like that. No schoolgirl crushes, no high school going steady with some hot guy on the football team, no college boyfriend…nobody."

"And you like it…but you don't like it."

Nell nodded. Figuring this couldn't get more awkward if she tried, she allowed her index finger to work its way up into her ponytail, twisting auburn strands in a soothing pattern. "I like that I've never had my heart broken. I've never cried over some jerk who knew just what to say. I never had awkward conversations about when and who I was allowed to date. I didn't have to worry about whose arm I was hanging off of as a status symbol."

"That actually sounds pretty cool, come to think of it."

"It's the why I don't like. I was a late bloomer and a grade ahead and still graduated early. Sometimes…I feel like I missed out on actually getting to be a teenaged girl. I mean, hello, I was in college before I turned seventeen. Eric and Deeks were the first people not related to me who ever gave me a nickname."

"Deeks has a nickname for you?"

"Two, actually. He calls me Velma if I call him Shaggy."

"What's the other one?"

Nell smirked. "Nellasaurous."

Catherine collapsed backward onto the bed laughing.

Kono emerged from the bathroom from the racket. "What's so funny?"

Nell recovered first. "I told her Deeks' nickname for me."

"What is it?"

"Nellasaurous."

All three agents were still laughing when Deeks stuck his head in a few moments later. "Nell, Bishop said you were in here."

"Right here."

"Hey, we still on for surfing in the morning?"

"Absolutely. I'll be on the beach as soon as I can wake up."

"See you then. 'Night, Nell."

" 'Night, Deeks. Hate to break up the party, but I have got to get to bed if I'm going to be in any shape to surf."

"Off to bed with you, then," Kono replied.

"Hey, I'll walk over with you," Catherine added. "Need to return this file to Bishop."

Catherine paused outside Nell's door. Pressing the file into the analyst's hand, she added quietly, "I'm here if you need to talk."

"Thanks, Catherine."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**A/N**: And, the fun begins. Minorly graphic. Minor language warning.

Nell sleepily raised her head from her comfy pillow and blinked the clock into focus. _Good grief. Deeks and Eric are probably fixing to have little baby bunnies and calling me a slowpoke_. As she swung out of bed and grabbed her surf gear, a piece of paper on the floor caught her eye. It had evidently been slipped under the door.

Nellosaurous,

I'll be on the beach with Monty whenever you get down there. Don't rush: we could use some together time.

Wolfram will need to take a rain check. He has a hangover from hell.

Shaggy

She smirked and started changing into surfing clothes.

Deeks lost track of how long he had been sitting on the beach with Monty, listening to the waves crashing. Ever since he was a little boy, the sound had been comforting. However, he had been sitting and listening long enough to be thoroughly covered in sand, and for the three glasses of water he drank to combat the sorta-hangover dehydration to start to work their way to his bladder. This left him faced with the dilemma of sucking it up, or getting cleaned up and using the sandroom bath.

Monty tugged on his leash and whined, stretching for the grass near the house. Apparently the dog echoed his master's sentiment. "Alright, boy, we'll walk up to the grass a bit." Monty's sniffing expedition led the pair around to the corner of the house before the mutt finally settled on an approximate location and started circling. It was kind of ridiculous, Deeks noted, that his dog could do in perfect ease what left him debating. Then again, maybe Monty had the right idea. Deeks looked over his shoulder to make sure no one had entered the patio before starting to unfasten the fly of his swim trunks.

Nell pulled most of her hair into a ponytail on her way down the stairs. The few stray ends would be slicked back as soon as she got into the water. Stopping by her locker, she grabbed her surfboard before stepping out onto the patio.

Monty's greeting bark alerted Deeks to the company. _Darn, darn, darn._ As soon as was humanly possible, Deeks pivoted slightly and attempted to nonchalantly trot in Nell's general direction, pretending he didn't know she was already there. As he turned the corner to the patio stairs, Monty leapt onto Nell. "Down, boy. Morning, Nell." One look at her face was all he needed. _Busted. This day is off to a great start._

"What are we standing here for? There are perfectly good waves a'wastin'!"

"Race you to the water line!"

Nell took off running.

They were a couple of waves in when things started to head south. Nell got a little too high on a wave and wiped out. It was a warming-up mistake, one that Deeks made pretty regularly, but Nell was significantly shorter than him, which meant it took longer for her to surface. By the time Deeks arrived, she was up and hanging onto her board, coughing and spluttering.

"You good?"

"Stupid mistake. Okay, we've both embarrassed ourselves for the day now."

"You think I only embarrass myself once a day?"

"In front of me," she shot back.

"Touché."

"Good thing Kensi's not here."

Deeks smirked. "You swallow any water?"

"Yeah," Nell blushed.

"Chin up, Nellosaurous, nothing to be ashamed of." Deeks didn't feel compelled to further embarrass the analyst by mentioning that when you swallowed a good bit of the ocean, you generally hadn't seen it for the last time. _I guess we'll see how iron her stomach is_.

"Okay, I'm good, Shaggy." She climbed back onto her board and started paddling.

It was only a couple of minutes before Deeks noticed Nell slowing down a bit. Thankfully, he didn't have to butt heads with the stubborn analyst since about the same time he started silently cursing himself for those glasses of water. Again.

"Yo, Nell, you wanna head back?"

"Sure, I guess, is there a problem?"

Deeks tried to look sheepish. "I gotta pee."

"Again?!"

"I drank 3 glasses of water to combat the post-alcohol dehydration. Plus, you don't look so hot."

She shrugged. "Saltwater before breakfast."

Deeks pointed his board back towards shore and started paddling. He noticed Nell falling further and further behind, and started looking over his shoulder every few strokes to check on her. Eventually, he stopped paddling entirely to let her catch up. "Nell, you need a tow? You look worse than Eric did."

By that point Nell felt too awful to care. "Please."

A couple hundred feet later, he heard a moaned "Deeks," from behind.

"Yeah, Nell?"

She gestured to her left. "Sandbar."

Deeks cut left and started paddling as fast as he could. He barely made it to the sandbar before Nell crawled off her board and bent over. Deeks velcroed her leash to his leg and sprang to hold her hair back. After a few seconds, the analyst leaned back on her heels and ran a hand along her hairline. "Once we get back there, we never talk about this again, understood?"

Deeks grinned. "If I told you my most embarrassing surf story ever, would it make you feel better about yourself?"

Nell climbed back onto her board. "Probably."

Deeks rolled his eyes at the remembrance. "One thing. You are sworn to secrecy."

"Deal."

"Okay. It was a while back, I was maybe 21 or so and in a surfing competition. It was kinda a weird layout, you got a warm up period, one set on the waves, a break, another set, another break, and a third set. Anyways, before I went out I made the same mistake I did today—fueled up with a protein bar and too much Gatorade. And, to top it off, in the warm-up I did exactly what you did, and swallowed a good bit of water."

"This sounds like the competition from the black lagoon," Nell commented.

"The only consolation was, I placed. First set went great, I came out of it feeling like I had done some of my best surfing ever. First break, just fine. One of my friends was competing too, we sorta bantered around a bit and it kept me from getting too nervous. Right about the beginning of the second set I started regretting that Gatorade."

Nell giggled. _Good, I am doing something besides re-mortifying myself_.

"By the end of the second set, I was in agony. Thankfully, they would let you rest off your boards, so as soon as I was to the rest area I slipped off and rectified that situation."

He could almost _hear_ the eye roll.

"But, of course, this was the competition from you-know-where, and bad luck wasn't done with me yet. I did pretty well the first half of the third set, but the second half I started feeling sick. Trouble is, the judges could see you all the way back to the shore, so as soon as I was done competing I started high-tailing it to the beach."

"You make it?"

"Barely. Dashed up there, stuck my board in the sand so the judges couldn't see me, and spent the next five minutes feeling the worst I ever had in my life with the exception of my first hangover."

"The first hangover is always awful," Nell agreed. "I certainly didn't do myself any favors with mine, though."

Deeks looked slightly shocked. "You had a bad first hangover?"

"Deeks, I drank until the bartender cut me off. I was nearly unconscious!"

"But you never drink!"

Nell sighed. "Yeah, you're fixing to learn why."

"You have a crappy 21st birthday or something?"

"More like a crappy 20th year. Tried to drown my sorrows."

"I take it that didn't work too well."

"Oh, it worked just fine, until I got home. I stumbled into a dresser and knocked a mirror off the wall of my apartment. It…took me back to the stuff my dad would do when he was drunk. I spent the next 48 or so hours in alcohol and flaskback induced delirium. By the end of it I swore to myself that I would never get drunk again."

"How'd that work out?"

"Not too well, at first. I had a low tolerance for alcohol, and if I got past one drink, I usually couldn't stop. Nate said it was part of the genetic predisposition to alcoholism."

"Woah, Nell, too many big words."

"My genes make it hard to stop drinking once I'm buzzed."

"Much better."

"But, after I figured that out, I just only had one, or two at the most."

"So that's why you—"

"Always leave early with Eric. He knows that, especially if I'm upset, it's hard to stop. Easiest way to not get drunk? Leave the bar."

"I'll keep that in mind. So, now that I have thoroughly embarrassed myself, what embarrassing story are you going to tell?"

"I told you about my first hangover."

"Not embarrassing enough. Well, not funny enough to qualify for this kind of embarrassing."

"So, ask me a question that will lead to the proper kind of embarrassing."

"Ever been suspended?"

"From school? Heck yes."

"How long was the longest suspension you ever had?"

"Like, forever?"

"You got expelled?"

"Yep."

"When?"

"Senior year."

"But, why?"

"Fighting."

"This should be good."

Nell sighed. "My brother and I were only one grade apart, so my senior year was the only year of my high school he wasn't there. There were these guys, troublemakers, into drugs. Long story short, I caught them one day smoking pot in the old girls locker room."

"What were you doing in the old girls locker room?"

"Same as you need to do now."

"Ah."

"They didn't see me, I reported it, three of the six were arrested. Somehow the other three found out and decided to teach me a lesson the second-to-last day of exams."

"That…doesn't sound good."

"Nope, it wasn't. Only good thing was, Marine brats know how to fight two ways: fight fair, or fight to win."

"You fought to win."

"Exactly. First guy jumped me; I pinned him across the throat and started bashing his head into the lockers. Second guy jumped me from behind, I back kicked him."

"Where? Not there! Nell, seriously!"

"They were trying to beat me up, Deeks. One of them had me in a choke hold a few seconds later, and he had a knife! What else was I supposed to do?"

"Okay, okay, just only do it to really, really bad guys."

"Third guy tries to choke me. Same song, next verse. That's where things start to get a little fuzzy. Apparently, according to guys number two and three, I continued bashing guy number one's head against the lockers until he passed out, while guy number two had me in a choke hold. Guy number one passes out, I pivot and catch guy number two across the throat and he goes down for the duration. Guy number three pulls a knife and charges, I react in reflex. Break his arm, take the knife and I got him in a half-Nelson with his knife to his neck."

"Go you!"

"Yeah. The security guards chose that moment to show up."

"Uh oh."

"Thankfully I passed out about then, so that helped my case a little."

"What happened to you?"

"Multiple cracked ribs, bone-bruised collarbone, badly bruised neck, grade 2 concussion."

"Ouch, ouch, ouch."

"Yeah. I was sick for 3 days, too."

"What about them?"

"First one still doesn't remember what happened, because of the concussion me and the lockers gave him. Guy number two was very sore. VERY sore. Guy number three had a greenstick fracture of one bone in his arm and a compound spiral fracture of the other."

"That's what he deserves for pulling a knife on you. What did the security guards do?"

"Called the police and the ambulance for the first guy. Once I came to, I felt fine and started walking home."

"With a concussion."

"Didn't know it at the time. The police showed up with a warrant as I started getting sick. Try answering police questioning with a concussion when the only thing you can stand to think about is whether you can manage to get your stomach empty before you pass out from the pain."

"Actually, done that, minus the police questioning part. Wasn't fun at all. Did they eventually take you to the hospital?"

"Yeah, after I passed out in the bathroom where I went 'cause I didn't want someone to listen to me get sick."

"Oh. Sorry about that."

"Hey, I felt too bad to care. Thanks."

"And, looka here, we're almost back." Deeks had been towing her the whole way, so it had taken longer to get back to shore than going out. _Made it just in time_, he mentally added, seeing as his bladder was screaming and Nell was turning the color of her eyes.

She crawled shakily off her board and rolled onto the sand. "Hey, there's a bush-bed thingy around the corner, if you can make it that far. Nice and private."

As sick as she was, Nell rolled her eyes at him.

And immediately regretted it.

Deeks held her hair back again, as she (hopefully) rid her stomach of the last of the ocean.

"We will never. Ever. EVER. Talk about this again. OKAY?"

"Okay," Deeks replied. He made a zipping motion across his lips. "My lips are sealed. Lay down a minute, I'll put your board up."

When Deeks returned a few minutes later, Nell felt better and rolled onto all fours. She took the offered hand up and started trudging towards the house. "You good?"

"Not yet."

She trudged up the stairs one step ahead of him.

In the kitchen, her nose was assaulted with food odors, causing her stomach to flip over. "Hey, good morning, surfers, what can I get you for breakfast?" Dinozzo asked.

"Go. To. Hell," Nell bit back.

"Woah. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning besides me," Tony groaned.

"Hung over much?" Deeks teased.

Tony chose to ignore him. "C'mon, Nell, don't you want some eggs?" He moved the laden plate closer to the red-headed analyst. Apparently her death-glare wasn't enough for the hung-over senior agent, because he stuck the plate of eggs under her nose. Nell knife-handed the plate away and dashed for the stairs.

Tony turned around in confusion, to see Deek's fist headed straight for his upper arm.

"Callen. Callen. Wake up, Callen!"

G. Callen raised his head slightly, squinting at the bright sunlight. "Wha…what, Eric?"

"Something's wrong downstairs."

"What?"

"I don't know."

"Well, go find out!" _I must be hung over. My head is throbbing and I have a killer cottonmouth._

"I…can't. I have the hangover from hell, Callen. I can't get that far from a bathroom," And Eric rapidly retreated the way he had come.

Callen rolled carefully out of bed and started stumbling downstairs. He stopped short halfway down and the sight that met him: The kitchen floor was scattered with scrambled eggs (those that weren't rubbed in Dinozzo's face) and Deeks was attempting to keep Dinozzo in a headlock while Bishop assaulted his abdomen.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Callen moaned. "Eric?"

"You might want to cover your ears." The techie let loose an earsplitting whistle into the kitchen.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?" Callen yelled, ears still covered. Bishop jumped away from Dinozzo, who reluctantly disentangled himself from Deeks.

From upstairs, Callen vaguely heard the sound of someone being sick. _Eric._

"No, wait, shut up. Get in a corner. All of you." Dinozzo and Deeks scuttled for corners. "That means you, Bishop!" The analyst fled into a corner.

Callen dragged himself back upstairs to check on Eric. Who was, surprisingly enough, lying in bed. "Thought you were sick, man."

"Wasn't me," Eric groaned back. "Thought it was you."

The direction the sound had come from dawned on both men simultaneously. "Nell."

"I thought she didn't drink anything!"

"She didn't," Callen replied, hustling off to Nell's room. He knocked quietly. "GO AWAY, DINOZZO!"

"Woah." Callen stepped back, startled. "Nell, it's Callen."

"Oh. Sorry, Callen," came a tiny voice.

"You okay?"

"Tried to bring some of the ocean back with me."

"Callen?" came a voice from downstairs.

The senior agent trudged back to the top of the stairs. "What, Deeks?"

"I have to pee."

"He didn't do that already?" Nell asked from the bathroom.

_Curioser and curioser. _

"On a scale of one to ten—"

"Nine. And three-quarters!" _I swear, it's like I work with toddlers._ Callen stumbled downstairs.

"You have thirty seconds, Deeks." Callen gestured towards the back patio. "Put your back to Bishop."

"Thankyoucallen!" and Deeks darted out the door. _For the second time in less than an hour, a woman has full knowledge that I am peeing on the ground. Could this day get any worse?_ Deeks' stomach did a summersault. _Forget I mentioned it, please!_

"Ten seconds," came Callen's warning.

Deeks did his fly and dashed back to his corner.

"Stay put, all of you." Callen dragged himself back towards the stairs.

He knocked softly on Nell's bathroom door. "It's Callen."

"c'b'n"

He wordlessly ran her a glass of water to rinse her mouth out. Nell took the proffered glass before settling back to rest her head on the side of the tub. "You want to go to bed?"

"I'd just be back," she groaned. "At least there's nothing left, so according to Deeks I should—"

Callen backed out of the bathroom, but didn't leave before propping pillow against the door. Normally he would assist a woman in such distress, but he wasn't interested in joining the wonder twins.

Still fuming, Callen stomped back downstairs. "Callen?"

"Shut up. You are all staying there until Nell is able to come down here so I can get to the bottom of this." He started fixing himself a breakfast of ginger ale and Tylenol.

"Callen?" Dinozzo asked again.

"What?"

"Unless you want me to vomit on the floor—"

"Go, Dinozzo." Callen banged his head against the cabinet, seriously considering a moratorium on alcohol for the remainder of the trip.

He was a quarter of the way through the ginger ale when Dinozzo reappeared, halfway through when Bishop started snoring, and had nearly drained the glass when Nell trudged downstairs.

She eyed the can of Canada Dry enviously. "Can I have some, please?"

"Sit." Callen gestured towards the table. "I'll fix it. Deeks?"

"Yes?"

"Sit. Across from Nell. Dinozzo, you're at the end, Bishop?"

He was met with silence. "I woke her up puking," Nell said soflty. "Which was Dinozzo's fault," Deeks added.

"Shush, both of you. BISHOP!"

The blond analyst shot upright. "Yes sir, Agent Callen!"

"Siddown, next to Nell."

Callen handed Nell a glass of ginger ale before refilling his own. He wordlessly placed an empty ice cream bucket next to the analyst's chair. "Callen," Dinozzo asked.

"What?"

"Bucket?"

Callen trudged back to the cabinet. "Deeks?"

"Probably a good idea."

"Bishop?"

"I'm not hung over, Agent Callen."

"Neither am I," Nell retorted.

Callen returned to the table. "Bishop, would you like some ginger ale?"

"Well…"

"It's ginger ale or nothing until we get finished, which may be a while."

"Yes, please."

"Callen," Deeks asked.

"What!"

"May I please have some too?"

"You're hung over, Deeks."

"Not as much as you are," the surfer shot back.

Callen took a moment to reign in his temper. "Alright, Deeks, you have a point. And no, Dinozzo, you can just puke your guts out for all I care. You're more hung over than both of us put together."

He sat down at the head of the table. "Now. I hope you can behave like civilized adults and tell me, in an orderly fashion, what made Eric wake me up in between getting sick at whatever ungodly hour it currently is!"

"Uh, Callen, it's almost oh eight hundred," Nell offered quietly.

"I had half of a six-pack last night. That's still too early."

"Okay, I'll start," Deeks volunteered. "You want all the gory details?"

"Yes, Deeks."

"I took Monty out to wait on the beach after slipping a note under Nell's door to meet me when she was ready, and that Eric needed a rain check. Wait, in between the note and the beach I drank three glasses of water to combat dehydration.

"Anyways. Me. Monty. Beach. He started pulling me towards the grass, I was covered in sand but I had to pee."

"So this was the second time you—"

"Three glasses of water, Callen, Nell already chewed me out for this, okay? Anyways, I figured Monty had the right idea" Callen dropped his head onto the table, "And it would have worked swimmingly except Nell chose that moment to appear on the patio. And my dumb dog" Monty whined from the doormat, "decided to alert her to my location."

"Okay, nevermind, skip the gory details until you got back to the house."

"Right. Went out. Surfed a few waves. Nell went down, common mistake, I do it all the time. Swallowed a lot of water. Once she caught her breath we headed out until she started turning green and I had to pee again."

"Again?"

"That was what I said," Nell commented.

"Hold it, did you ever?"

"No, Callen, why do you think it was nine and three-quarters out of ten? You're a federal investigator, go-lly!"

"Okay, cut the attitude, then what happened?"

"And that's the part Nell made me swear we would never talk about again."

She looked sheepishly at Callen, her face putting her hair to shame.

"Nell. Synopsis."

"We got back. Eventually."

"After I towed her and she got sick, not necessarily in that order."

Nell glared at Deeks.

Callen sighed. "Nell, I asked him."

She reluctantly lowered her face.

"We got back, Nell got sick,"

"Because he acted like a jerk and I rolled my eyes," Nell cut in.

"I put up the boards while she recovered, and then we came up here. Dinozzo, I believe the next part of the story is yours?"

Tony lifted his head off the table, one hand dropping to the bucket by his chair. "I woke up hung over but hungry for some weird reason, and fixed enough eggs for a few people since Deeks and Nell were up. Figured they would be hungry."

"Figure again," Nell groaned.

"Nell," Callen warned her. "Enough peanut gallery."

"Anyways, I offered them eggs—"

"Offered?" Deeks yelled. "OFFERED? YOU STUCK THE—THE—THE BLEEPING EGGS UNDER HER NOSE, AND SHE WAS ALREADY VISIBLY GREEN!"

"DEEKS!" Callen roared. "Inside voice. Or I take your ginger ale. Dinozzo, is that right?"

Tony hung his head. "Yes, Callen."

Callen glared at him.

"Sir."

"Okay, continue."

"I threw the first punch, Callen," Deeks stated bluntly. "I take full responsibility. I provoked the fight."

"Deeks, thank you for your honesty, but this is not a military tribunal. The responsibility is divided among the participants as deserved."

"I punched him in the arm. I just was going for a dead arm, honest, to let him know I was ticked off."

"Okay," Callen stated.

"And that was where he jumped me."

"And that was when I made it into the bathroom," Nell added. "I heard Deeks yell."

"And the combination of those two things woke me up, and I saw Nell sick and Dinozzo and Deeks fighting with eggs on the floor and put two and two together," Ellie added.

"So you joined the fight."

"I grew up with a pack of brothers, Agent Callen. When I'm tired and angry, I tend to think with my fists."

"Apology accepted, Bishop. Dinozzo, you idiot," Callen continued, "You can either run four laps around this property or do one hundred push ups. You have until I finish speaking to decide. Deeks, you admitted to throwing the first punch. 50 push-ups." Callen seemed to consider for a moment. "Did you tow Nell?"

"Yes, Callen," Deeks replied meekly.

"You can do two sets of 25, starting as soon as you think you can do it without vomiting. Bishop, instead of going and retrieving a senior agent you joined into a fight and left my incredibly hung-over techie to wake me up. 25 push ups, on your knuckles, nose to ground. Dinozzo, what is your decision?"

"Ah, I think I'll run, Callen."

"Well, go then!"

Ellie got down on the floor, and Deeks took a long swig of ginger ale before joining her.

Nell raised her head off her arms and looked at Deeks weakly. "Think of all the things that we've done, and it's only nine in the morning!"


	7. Chapter 7

(**A/N**:Italics are memories. I appologize for the "what in the world happened" feeling you will have for the next few chapters. I'll get there...eventually.)

**Chapter 7**

Callen leaned back in the hammock, interlacing his fingers behind his head in an attempt to find a more comfortable position. Hetty must be really upset at him for the scrambled-eggs-triggered-fist-fight incident. It was the only logical explanation for why he was sitting in the middle of the woods, at night, with Deeks, guarding someone else's illegal operation; while Nell was driving fast, fancy cars fast and fancily with McGarrett; Sam was driving an equally fast but not so fancy distant tail car with Chin Ho Kelly (in case Nell and Steve needed backup); Kensi was repairing other fast, fancy cars as a day job with Gibbs and Rollins; DiNozzo and McGee were standing by to back anyone up; Bishop was trying to figure out what on earth they had stumbled and fallen into; and Eric was keeping electronic tabs on all of them from his Ops center. All of them including Kono and Danny, who were on the other side of the operation from Callen. Who was sitting in the woods. At night. With Deeks. Guarding someone else's illegal operation.

Well, it could be worse. He could be sitting in the woods at night with DiNozzo guarding someone else's illegal operation. On second thought, Deeks talked at least as much as DiNozzo, and the Agent probably would have known not to disappear into the middle of the woods.

_Three Hours Earlier_

They had been setting up camp from the supplies in the Mazda B-series pickup, styling their position to look like they were a couple of hunters bedding down for the night, instead of highly trained federal agents pretending to be private-security-gone-bad guarding a moonshine production site for rum-running gang who may or may not be working for arms smugglers. Callen had just finished pulling the firewood out of the truck bed when he realized Deeks was nowhere to be seen.

"Deeks."

Silence, except for woods-at-dusk noises.

"Deeks!"

Of course, this had to happen before they had wired up.

Callen drew his gun and slipped silently into the trees, walking in a spiral path away from the camp. He paused again to listen, and heard a twig crack, like a man had just shifted his weight to the other foot.

He thumbed off the safety and approached stealthily, revealing himself only after he recognized the shaggy hair belonging to his troublesome LAPD liason.

"Deeks! Are you okay?"

"Um, yeah, I'm fine."

Callen's concern immediately abated, leaving something teetering between annoyance and anger. "What do you think you're doing?"

Deeks rolled his eyes, attempting to draw Callen's attention towards his face and away from his open fly. "I dunno," he replied, surreptitiously zipping up. "What does it look like I'm doing, flossing my otter?"

Callen growled in frustration and grabbed the younger man's shoulder, shoving him in front back towards the campsite.

_Why did he feel compelled to just wander off? I'm not asking for a dissertation or anything, a "Yo, Callen, back in a minute" would be plenty. He's un-embarrasseable, or else I would think he was just ashamed to ask. He tells Kensi straight up. Nell too. _The little nagging voice in the back of Callen's mind encroached on his thoughts. "You know why," it said. He hope to goodness it was wrong.

"Sit." The agent gestured towards the tailgate of the truck, and turned to finish hiding their more suspicious weapons and securing their food supply.

Deeks perched mutely on the end of the truck, looking like a scared kid. Callen jerked his thumb towards the detective's hammock. Deeks shuffled over and swung into his bed for that night, studying the sky to try and distract himself from the stony silence.

Callen stowed a few more supplies before slamming the truck doors (more loudly than was strictly necessary) and flopping back into his hammock.

"Callen?"

"What?" he bit back.

"What did I do?"

Callen sighed. "I turned around and my partner was gone! I had no idea where you were, whether you had been kidnapped or shot with a suppressed weapon or what!"

"I…had to pee," Deeks offered quietly.

Callen turned around to face the detective. "Could you have just told me that?"

The look on Deeks's face was all the answer Callen needed. "I told you so," that annoying little voice told him.

"Deeks, did your father…I mean, did he ever…?"

The detective held up his hand. "It wasn't…like that, but yes, there was always the fear that he would try to hurt me when I was vulnerable; catch me with my proverbial pants down…literally."

"That's the problem, Deeks, you were vulnerable. If someone besides me had come up behind you, would you have been able to draw your gun, take off the safety, and get a bead on him before he had time to get a shot off?"

Deeks face told Callen that he hadn't considered that aspect.

"Look, Deeks, I get it."

"Really," the detective replied sarcastically, but tinged with a little hope.

Callen leaned back in his hammock, needing to look at something besides Deeks' face if he was going to see this through. "Right after I moved to LA, I had been partnered with Sam for about a year, I got poisoned on a case, undercover. The EMTs gave me the antidote, I signed out AMA, and Sam started driving me back to HQ."

_Callen leaned the passenger seat of the Challenger back as far as it would go, closing his eyes in an attempt to bring his stomach back under control. "G, need to stop?" Sam asked for the fourth time in an hour. Callen shook his head mutely._

_"G, you don't need to be ashamed if you're sick. You were poisoned!"_

_Callen made a "shut up" gesture with his right hand._

_Sam sighed, pulling the Challenger onto an area of wide shoulder along the highway. "We are sitting here until you give me a straight answer. Do you need to vomit?"_

_Callen groaned. "Not right this instant."_

_Sam pulled back onto the deserted highway, reaching under his seat to pull out a storage bag. He silently laid it across his partner's leg._

_"Seriously? A barf bag? I'm not six!"_

_Sam patted Callen's shoulder. "They're multipurpose bags, G. Use them for smelly trash sometimes, and weirder stuff on stakeouts…"_

_Callen turned his head towards Sam. "Don't think I don't remember the triple-shot incident last month."_

_Sam grinned. "So you do get why they're there."_

_"No, I just know from you not to drink a triple-shot of espresso on a stakeout."_

_The pair lapsed into silence, and Sam drove on, glancing over at his partner every minute or so. A few minutes after he noticed Callen's hands move to over his stomach, Sam caught him swallowing hard. Too hard._

_He pulled over and walked around to help Callen out of the car. The ex-SEAL wordlessly guided his partner a little away from the road and helped him onto his knees, before sitting down and rubbing slow circles on Callen's back. "Okay," Callen admitted, willing it to be over fast, "now I think I need to throw up."_

_After a few minutes the heaving slowed down and he leaned back on his heels. "You good?" Sam asked._

_Callen nodded and pulled himself back to his feet. Sam headed back for the car, but turned around when he sensed his partner wasn't following him. He met the other agent's gaze. Callen turned and studied the stand of trees behind him. "I'm going…that way," he told Sam, pointing towards a break in the trees. "If I'm not back in 3 minutes…"_

_The ex-SEAL nodded. "I'll come looking for you, with my thumb on the safety."_

_"Not sure that's necessary, big guy," Callen replied as he headed into the trees._

_Sam sat down with his back against the Challenger, recalling the pair's first victory over the trauma in Callen's past. After the third time tracking the man down after he disappeared from a stakeout, Sam learned that his partner was uncomfortable with bordering on unable to simply state he needed to use the restroom. A heated argument and few minutes of developing a verbal code later, Sam felt for the first time that the other man was starting to trust him. Six plus months after they finally sorted that out, Sam leaned back against the warm vehicle, keeping an eye on his watch._

_Callen made it about twenty yards from Sam and the Challenger before his stomach completely revolted. He bent double, and a few seconds later the offending contents were finally expelled from his body. Callen leaned against a tree and waited for the world to stop shaking before rinsing his mouth out with water from his canteen. By the time his mental count reached two minutes, he felt able to head back to Sam. _

_The big guy had a hand on his gun, nervously eyeing the twenty seconds remaining on his watch, when Callen emerged from the trees. "Hey," Sam greeted, "You look like you feel better. All set?"_

_Callen raised a hand in a "wishy-washy" gesture as he climbed into the car. Sam was none the wiser of what had actually occurred until Callen gestured to a small gas station beside the highway._

_"What?"_

_"You barely have a quarter tank," Callen replied. "I didn't plan being stranded by a highway into my day."_

_Sam pulled up by a pump and filled up his gas tank. Climbing back into the car, he noticed his partner's subtle squirming. _

_"G?"_

_"Yeah, Sam."_

_"You need a minute?"_

_The other man nodded, and Sam pulled the Challenger into a parking place. Callen swung out of the car slowly._

_"On your six," Sam reminded quietly. He tailed the shorter man as Callen headed for the gas station's restroom._

_The ex-SEAL pretended to study the selection of car maintenance products situated close enough for him to actually keep an eye on the restroom. Noticing another patron entering, Sam followed him in and leaned against the wall. "Thanks, Sam," Callen whispered quietly as he sensed his partner's presence._

_Callen was visibly wobbly as he turned towards the door, and Sam moved to support his partner as he half-walked, half-stumbled towards the car. Once Callen was situated, Sam asked "Alright if I grab something to drink?"_

_Callen nodded, and Sam slipped back into the gas station, purchasing Gatorade and saltines for Callen and a soda and a granola bar for himself. "Is he alright?" the young lady behind the register inquired worriedly. _

_"He was car sick back there," Sam replied. "Hasn't eaten anything, so he's pretty weak."_

_The attendant nodded, handing Sam his change. "Have a nice day, hope you get to where you're going soon."_

_Sam settled back into the car, handing Callen the Gatorade and crackers, "for whenever you feel like it." Tearing the wrapper off his granola bar, Sam turned back onto the highway before asking, "G?"_

_"Yeah?"_

_"Can I get…another straight answer?"_

_"Probably," the agent replied evasively._

_"What really happened back there? 'Cause I'm pretty sure you weren't hitting the head."_

_Callen sighed. "Don't take this the wrong way."_

_"I won't."_

_The blonde agent leaned his seat up a bit so he could see his partner. "I couldn't do it."_

_Sam replied with a questioning look._

_"I wanted to just get it over with, but I physically couldn't."_

_Sam nodded slowly, reaching over to place a broad hand on his partner's shoulder._

_"My body…wouldn't let me throw up in front of you."_

_"But you did need to," Sam replied._

_Callen nodded. "That's why I slipped off."_

_"Same reason as the code?"_

_"Same general reason, different place, different time."_

_"You want to talk about it?" Sam inquired gently._

_"Not right now," his partner replied, leaning his seat back and directing a cool air vent toward his face. "Just hurry up and get us there."_

Callen finished the story and turned his face over to study the shaggy detective again. "I get it, Deeks…" His voice trailed off, interrupted by his sat phone dinging. "Yeah, Eric."

"Just calling to check in with you guys," the techie replied.

"Just a second, Eric," Callen asked before turning back to Deeks. "I'm gonna take a walk, check in with Sam," he told the younger man. "If I'm not back in fifteen minutes, start heading east with a thumb on your safety."

**A/N**: I cannot take credit for Deeks' "flossing my otter" comment; I borrowed it from a friend. All rights on the expression belong to Joseph. There was more to the original comment, and you haven't heard the last of Deeks' troublesome otter :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

_Callen finished the story and turned his face over to study the shaggy detective again. "I get it, Deeks…" His voice trailed off, interrupted by his sat phone dinging. "Yeah, Eric."_

_"Just calling to check in with you guys," the techie replied._

_"Just a second, Eric," Callen asked before turning back to Deeks. "I'm gonna take a walk, check in with Sam," he told the younger man. "If I'm not back in fifteen minutes, start heading east with a thumb on your safety."_

Deeks nodded, and the Agent headed away from the camp. "Go, Eric."

"I was…just checking in. Making sure you two hadn't killed each other."

"Not yet," Callen replied sarcastically.

"But you want to," Sam's voice came over the phone.

"Hi, Sam," his partner greeted sarcastically.

"Sorry, I made Eric put you on speaker. Just us. Why exactly do you want to kill Deeks?"

Callen banged his forehead against a tree. "Because he's too much like me!"

"Now you know how I feel," Sam replied jokingly. "But in all seriousness, G, what's your problem with him?"

"I spent four of the scariest minutes of my life tracking his rear after he disappeared from the camp!"

Sam sighed. "Like you used to do."

"Exactly."

"What did you do?"

"Once I found him, I escorted him back to camp and kept him where I could see him until we were done setting up."

"And then?"

"I sat him down and told it to him from my perspective. I turned around and my partner was gone."

"How did he take that?"

"He tried to be apologetic. At least then, he sounded like the Deeks we all know and love, whining to Kensi that he has to pee."

"Callen, you've gotta remember what it feels like."

"Sam, after I told him that, I asked if he could just tell me. His face was all the answer I needed."

"Then what?"

"I told him about the poison incident the first year we were partners."

"Hold it, which incident?" Eric asked.

"First year we were partners, G got poisoned undercover," Sam replied. "You remember, I brought him back after he signed out AMA?"

_Sam pulled into HQ in record time, reaching over to unbuckle Callen's seatbelt for him. The man was visibly green, his abdomen moving in unnatural contractions and his face a mask of agony._

_"C'mon, G," Sam stated softly, hauling his partner to his feet and throwing his arm across the ex-SEAL's broad shoulders. Sam all but dragged Callen through the office area, pausing only at the bathroom door. _

_Callen held up a hand, removing his arm from Sam's support, before stumbling into the bathroom._

_Sam thumped his forehead against the doorframe and trudged back to his desk._

_"Callen okay?" Kensi asked._

_Sam shook his head. "He's really sick." The SEAL leaned over his desk, cradling his head in his hands._

_"Are you okay, Sam?" the junior agent asked, sitting on the other end of the table._

_"I hate having to leave him alone like this," Sam replied._

_"But you do?" Kensi asked._

_Sam dropped his head back to his desk. "He said he couldn't do it. Some twisted villain in his past taught his brain that it wasn't safe to vomit in front of a man."_

_"He actually said that?"_

_"No, he just said not to take it the wrong way, but his body wouldn't let him do it. I asked a few question and figured out the rest." Sam turned to glance toward the bathroom door. "I just hate leaving him to face his demons alone."_

_Eric hadn't seen the full exchange (Kensi filled him in later); his only concern was watching to see if anyone had entered the restroom in the past five minutes. Determining the coast was clear, he slipped past the other agents (both trying to distract themselves with paperwork while keeping an ear cocked for Callen) and opened the door a few inches. The techie was all the way in before he noticed Agent Callen curled in a fetal position against the far wall. Eric dropped to his knees next to the older man. "Callen? Are you alright?"_

_"Eric?" Callen whispered._

_"Yeah, it's me."_

_Callen sat up experimentally, slowly moving his body to a more upright position. Eric ignored his own panic rising with his heart rate, concerned only with figuring out whether Callen was okay._

_"Well, the room's not spinning, that's a good sign," Callen stated hoarsely. "Can you get me some water?"_

_Eric filled a plastic cup from the counter and handed it to the agent. Callen rinsed his mouth and wiped a dampened hand against the back of his neck. "I'm okay, Eric," he reassured the techie. "The poison just didn't agree with my stomach."_

_"Why are you in here alone? You look like you could pass out."_

_Callen studied the other man's face. "The same reason you jumped three inches when you discovered you weren't alone in here."_

_Eric nodded slowly. "I'm sorry, Callen."_

_"It's fine, Eric, you can go get Sam now. I think I'm done revisiting my lunch."_

_"Sam!" Eric called from the door. _

_"Yeah, Eric, where are you?"_

_"Back here. Callen wants you!"_

_The ex-SEAL all but ran to the bathroom, quietly helping his partner off the floor and heading towards the sofa. "Thanks, Eric."_

_The techie locked the door behind the two agents and sagged against a wall, trying desperately to not hyperventilate and retreat out of the panic that was rapidly taking over his mind._

A thousand feeling swept across Eric's face in a split second. "Yeah, I remember."

"I just don't know what I'm supposed to do with him!" Callen exclaimed.

"You just have to tell it to him straight," Sam replied. "You understand that it doesn't work for him to do it right near you, but it doesn't work for you to not know where he is. Don't you remember when we had that conversation?"

_Sam struggled to keep his voice in a semi-acceptable range. "Callen, I cannot deal with you just…disappearing like this!"_

_The other agent pulled his clean shirt over his head and started shoving yesterday's clothes into his pack._

_"Callen, look at me!"_

_He reluctantly met the ex-SEAL's eyes._

_"I understand that you cannot just take care of this stuff where I can see you. That's something that's engrained in you, and I get that because there's stuff that's engrained in me, too! First thing they teach you in SEAL school, you look out for your partner. You are more concerned with watching your partner's back than you are with watching out for yourself. Not being able to watch your back makes me panicky like not being able to get some privacy does to you. I don't know how we can make this work, but plain and simple, I can't watch your back if I don't know where you back is!"_

_Callen didn't break the eye lock. "Would knowing how long I would be gone work?"_

_Sam sighed. "It's a start. But then where do I start looking if you're not back in time?"_

_The blond agent crouched back down and finished repacking his laundry. "Time and direction, then. That enough?"_

_The ex-SEAL crouched down next to his partner. G Callen, the legendary agent, profoundly broken yet still one of the best men in the business. "If you can make that work, I can make that work."_

"Yeah, I remember. Sam, actually telling you that, where I was going, and then following through, that was one of the hardest things I did that mission."

"G, actually letting you go off on your own was one of the hardest things I did that mission, too."

"Okay, guys, I know I'm missing some things here, but it sounds like you and Deeks need a verbal code."

"Well, I wouldn't exactly call it a verbal code," Callen countered.

"I would. 'If I'm not back in however many minutes, come looking for me with your thumb on the safety' means 'Going to the head,' G."

"No, it means 'I need a little privacy.'"

"If it does, then how did you fool me into thinking that you hadn't been sick that first time during the poison incident?"

"Because you assumed it meant what you said."

"Okay, you two, there's an easy way to settle this," Eric broke in. "If you are somewhere, not working or undercover, just hanging out, and you need to use the restroom, what would you tell Sam?"

"I would indicate my head in that general direction and he would nod."

"If you didn't know what direction it was,"

"If I didn't know what direction it was, I would wait."

"Liar," Sam shot in. "Jimmy Mike's Bar, last week, you went to the head, what did you tell me?"

"I can tell you that," Eric replied. "You looked towards the hall and said, 'Sam, I'll be back in three minutes.' He added the, if you're not, gun drawn and thumb on the safety part."

"Alright, alright, we're way off subject here," Callen reminded. "Eric, you said verbal code. Do you have to sit down and decide it or something?"

"Not necessarily. You and Sam did, but I use a verbal code for something all the time, and I don't have to explain it."

Sam nodded. "You say 'I'm going to get a drink of water,'"

"and it means you're going to the restroom," Callen finished.

"What did Deeks say when you found him?" Eric asked.

"He said 'what does it look like I'm doing, flossing my otter?'"

"Okay, one, that's really random, two, that's totally Deeks, and three, there's your verbal code. He starts acting antsy, ask him."

"How am I supposed to know where he goes?"

"I guess you two will have to figure that out. Didn't you tell Deeks fifteen minutes? It's been almost twelve."

"Thanks, Eric," Callen replied.

"Hang in there, G," Sam told him. "Remember how it feels."

"Okay, bye, Sam." Callen hung up and headed back for the camp.

Deeks was pacing when he got back. "Deeks, you okay?"

The detective continued pacing. "Deeks, what is it?"

"I'm not sure…I can do this."

"Which this, the mission this, or the dealing with camping with me this?"

"The dealing with camping with you."

"Deeks, I just told Sam this, the first time we used that verbal code, it was the hardest thing I did that whole mission. Later that day I got grazed by bullets and had to shoot a guy who had Kensi in a headlock, but even harder than that was just going the direction I told Sam I was going and doing what I needed to do."

The detective leaned against a tree, fiddling with his belt.

"Deeks?"

"Yeah, Callen?"

"I can't do this all for you. You need some space, some privacy, some time, all you have to do is ask, but I need you to ask me straight."

"Callen, can I have some space?"

"Private private space, or just me not hanging around space?"

"Just you not hanging around so I can think."

"You need to wander around, or just stay here?"

"I don't need to wander, but I don't want to—"

"It's fine, Deeks, you stay here," Callen replied, shouldering his backpack. "I'll be back in ten or fifteen minutes, if you still need some more time we'll figure it out then."

The agent was almost out of the campsite before he glanced back towards the detective. "Oh, and Deeks?" He pointed just to his right. "I'm going that way."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Twelve minutes later, Callen returned to their camp feeling much fresher in a clean set of clothes that didn't reek of stale sweat and tree sap. Deeks was flopped in his hammock, and the agent approached the shaggy detective slowly.

"Deeks?"

"Yeah, Callen?"

"You good?"

"I'm hungry," he replied.

Callen smirked and started digging through a cooler to see what Nell and Bishop had packed for them.

"And I now know where the rumors that the great Agent Callen never goes to the head more than once a day came from."

Callen couldn't decide whether to groan or laugh. And he really wanted to throw something at the cheeky detective.

"We good?" Deeks asked.

Callen spun a hundred and eighty degrees and threw a sandwich at the detective's face.

"Now we're good. Been wanting to throw something at you all afternoon."

"You can throw all the food you want at me, Callen," Deeks replied, tearing off a bite. As Callen likewise dug into his sandwich, the detective inquired, "Can we not just sit here in stony silence while we eat?"

"What do you suggest?" Callen asked around the sandwich stuffed in his mouth.

Deeks chewed contemplatively. "I know! Team trivia!"

"What's that?"

"It's where we ask each other trivia questions about other members of the team."

"What sort of questions?"

"Oh, I know one," Deeks replied. "How many members of our team have ever been expelled from school?"

"One."

"Wrong. Two that I know of. Could be three, who do you know?"

Callen smirked. "Eric."

"Yep, I knew that. There's someone else."

"Well," Callen began, thinking out loud, "I would know if it was Sam, so, Kensi?"

"Nope," Deeks responded, popping the P. "More unlikely."

"Umm…you barely know Nate, so was it you?"

"Strike two."

"Hold it. Nell?!"

"Yup."

Callen looked shocked. "You're telling me that Nell, our Intelligence Analyst Nell Jones, got expelled from school?"

"Sure thing."

"What, was she like in kindergarten and pointed a rubber band at somebody?"

"Nope. Senior year of high school. Fighting."

"Wow. Okay, wow. And just how do you know this? Stakeout?"

"Surfing. Monday. I tried to make her feel better about herself by telling her my most embarrassing surfing story ever, and then we weren't back so she got to tell an embarrassing story."

"And she chose getting expelled?"

"No, she mentioned her first hangover, but that's the wrong kind of embarrassing, really the expulsion was too, but I asked her if she had ever been suspended, and for how long."

"Okay, here's one for you. How many of our agents have ever been sick in the field not due to job-inflicted injuries like concussions or poisoning?"

"Wow, Callen, I was not expecting the middle school humor. Okay, I know I haven't,—"

"You haven't?"

Deeks sighed. "Do you seriously know about that?"

Callen shot Deeks his all-knowing smirk.

"Wait a minute, did Eric tell you?"

Callen shook his head.

"Nell?"

"Nope. Figured it out myself."

"Good grief. Does anyone else know?"

"Sam may. I doubt the wonder twins do."

Deeks sighed. "Unfortunately, I know Eric does."

Callen looked concerned. "Was he okay afterwards?"

"He was fine, why?"

"I happen to know it sounds awful over an earwig."

"Okay, too much information! Wait, maybe not. Who?"

"Kensi. One of her first cases, we were still sort of hazing her. Made her do dumpster diving duty, and she found a body."

"A body made her sick?"

"She told me it was that she wasn't expecting it. Anyways, I still want to know how it happened."

"You want to know what happened? My partner's driving happened! And for the record I had a broken arm."

"Kensi made you carsick."

"No, Kensi made be broken-arm sick with her driving!"

"Fine, have it your way. You know of anyone besides yourself?"

"Nope, you?"

"Nope, just you and Kensi."

"Okay, here's one for you. What's the worst hazing you've given an agent?"

"For your information, Detective Deeks, Agent Hanna and I only chose a very few true hazing events." Callen straightened up to match the professional tone of his sentence. "The rest just occur because of the new agent's status on the pecking order. That said, the funniest had to be Dom." His smile turned to a dark mask as less-pleasant memories of the agent flooded his mind.

"It's okay if you don't want to talk about it," Deeks replied softly.

"No, I just need to concentrate on the good times. Anyways, his first or second day we sent him on a stakeout with Kensi. After she keyed a car—"

"That's my girl!" Deeks put in.

"After she keyed a car they were holed up in her car trying to remain inconspicuous until—"

"Wait, let me guess, she told him she had to pee."

"No, she actually did have to. She just liked torturing you."

"Really?" Deeks asked.

"I can neither confirm nor deny that. Anyways, she grabbed a bag and climbed into the backseat and you could tell Dom did not think this was really happening. He told Sam he was convinced she was messing with him."

"Did he get unconvinced?"

"About the time she unzipped her jeans he realized she was serious, but then the other guys started moving so they had to go. Apparently what scared him the most was Kenz told him that if his driving kept her from a restroom, he was paying the dry cleaning bill."

Deeks bit into a delicious chocolate chip cookie, complements of Catherine. "Have to say, I kinda envy Steve about now."

"Because he's driving a fast car?"

"That, and because his girlfriend is a really, really good cook."

Callen wadded up his napkin and tossed it with his other trash into the bag.

"Wait, Callen!" Deeks called. The older agent sighed and re-opened the bag so the shaggy surfer could take a shot with his ball of garbage.

"Nice shot, Deeks!" he replied as the wad landed dead center in the bag. Callen tied the bag closed and tossed it in the truck cab to avoid attracting varmints, as Nell had called them. The weather was much too warm for a fire, aside from the smoke giving off their position, so Callen turned on a lantern and set it between the hammocks.

"Uh, Callen?" Deeks inquired a few minutes later, swinging out of his hammock.

"Yeah, Deeks?"

"Um, I'm going to try to say this…"

"Okay, I'll be quiet."

"Callen…I…why is this so hard? I said the exact words to you less than two days ago!"

"In a room with DiNozzo and Bishop with Nell and Eric right upstairs. It's different rules, Deeks."

The detective visibly braced himself, turning so his back was to the agent. "Okay, let me try again…Callen…I…need…I feel so messed up!"

Callen moved to stand a few feet behind Deeks. "Deeks. It's okay."

"No, it's not!"

"Listen to me. Would you say Eric is messed up?"

"No, of course not."

"Okay, tell me this: have you ever seen Eric shirtless?"

"No, not even surfing. He wears a rash guard."

"Okay, have you ever seen him in a shirt and boxers?"

"How did you know he wears boxers?"

"I didn't, wild guess. How do you—"

"Nell. Through Kensi."

"Anyways, answer the question."

"No, never. I've never seen Eric in anything less than a shirt and real, actual shorts."

"One more: have you ever heard Eric say he's going to the bathroom?"

Deeks racked his brain, realizing he had never heard the techie use that kind of statement. "Never heard him say he's going to the restroom, hitting the head, stopping by the men's room, nothing."

Callen moved so he could meet Deeks's eyes. "The reason you've never heard or seen any of those things is because they never happen. Nell is the only one who has ever seen Eric in boxers, and I'm pretty sure even she hasn't seen him shirtless. Eric never says when he's going to the men's room."

"He says he's going to get a drink of water, since water fountains are always by the restrooms."

"So, Deeks, do not say you are messed up because you can't say a specific sequence of words to me in a specific situation. It's called a coping mechanism, and usually it would work just fine."

"But this isn't usual."

"Right."

"Does…does Eric…ever say…?"

Callen shook his head. "He found me one day, obviously upset with himself, and told me how messed up _he _felt that he couldn't even say it in private, in a place where he feels completely safe. It's just too much of a trigger for him."

Deeks leaned against a tree. "Can I ask you a question?" When the agent nodded, he continued, "Why did you use Eric as an example instead of you?"

Callen sighed. "Lots of reasons. I figured you know him better and are around him more, and…"

"Callen, I do not think you are messed up, either."

"Then don't say it about yourself, Deeks. You're stronger than that. Vent if you need to, but don't believe a word you're saying."

Deeks swung mutely at a tree, stopping his fist just shy of the rough bark. "Why didn't we bring a—a punching bag with us?"

"Didn't think of it, I guess."

Deeks nodded slowly, fiddling with his belt.

"Be back in five minutes, Deeks," Callen told him quietly, and the younger man headed into the woods.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **Angst warning. Contains minor spoilers for Human Traffic and the Sam/Callen volcano scene.

**Chapter 10**

Deeks had been gone for about three minutes when Callen first heard someone approaching from the opposite direction the detective had gone. He rested a hand on his gun, relaxing only when Danny Williams stepped into the clearing.

"Hey, Danny."

"Hi Callen."

"Need something?"

"What, no "how are things over there, Danny" or "what did you have for dinner"?"

Callen smirked. The other man was growing on him, sort of like a certain other detective. "Okay, why are you here?"

"Kono wanted some privacy—I didn't ask—and I felt like some male company. I'm used to spending all day locked in a can with Steve, and like some sort of Stockholm syndrome I have apparently become dependent on the testosterone. Where's Deeks?"

Callen heard the LAPD liason approaching, and intentionally raised his voice slightly so it would carry to his current partner. "He's flossing his otter."

"Okay, he's…wait, he's what?" Danny asked incredulously.

"Flossing my otter," Deeks replied, stepping into the camp.

"Do I even want to know?" Danny asked.

"If I don't floss him at particular times each day he gets anxious, and if he gets anxious he has nightmares. If he has nightmares, he wets the bed, which attracts all kinds of vermin and then we have to call animal control, and—do you really want to hear this?"

"Actually, if I have a choice, then no, thanks, I'm good."

Deeks glanced towards Callen and both men barely restrained themselves from snickering. As Danny turned around, Callen stuck a hand behind his back for a low five. "Good one, Deeks," he whispered.

"Well, I'm just going to be on my way," the Five-0 detective rambled uncomfortably, "maybe call Grace or something to give Kono a little more time, so bye," and he hurried back the way he came.

As soon as Danny's retreating form was out of sight, the two NCIS partners glanced at each other and burst out laughing.

"Deeks…that…was…brilliant," Callen stated slowly as he tried to recover his breath.

"You were brilliant, how on earth did you think to say that?"

"Guess you're rubbing off on me or something."

"So, flossing my otter?"

"Hey, if it works for you, it works for me."

"I don't think I'll ever be able to say it with a straight face," Deeks replied.

"Can you usually say something with a straight face?" Callen shot back.

"Ow, Callen, that was low!"

_Since when did I start bantering with Deeks?_ Callen wondered. It had taken five years to get to the level of partner ESP where he and Sam could toss sentence fragments back and forth seamlessly. Then again, Nell and Eric had picked it up in a few months.

"So, what are we going to do?" Deeks inquired. "We could play a game, or build a volcano…"

_"I'm sure Hetty will give you a gold star," he goaded his partner. "Can't wait to see what you do for your science fair project. I know, we should build a volcano!"_

_Sam shot him a half-angry, half-playful look. "Maybe I should just—"_

_"Throw me in one?"_

_The big guy smirked. "That wasn't what I was going to say."_

Callen sighed to himself. If he was brutally honest, a large portion of the blame for his set-back relationship with Sam fell squarely on his shoulders. For a long time after the pair was first partners, he had pushed back every attempt Sam made to be anything besides strictly his partner.

"So, whadaya say, Callen?" Deeks asked.

"Wait, what? I zoned out there."

"Really," Deeks replied sarcastically.

"Seriously."

"Why are you not listening to me?"

"I am."

"Why do I get the feeling you're just avoiding talking as much as possible?"

"I'm not."

"Then stop it with the two word sentences, Callen!" Deeks shot back. "Look, I'm not great at communication, at least if you ask Kensi, but I'm better than you are! Sometimes I don't know how Sam deals with you!"

"Sometimes I wonder how she deals with you," Callen retorted playfully.

Apparently, the detective wasn't in a mood for playful. "Who do you think you are?" Deeks spat.

Callen's mind reeled, trying to catch up with the Detective's rapidly changing mood.

"Are you just going to stand there and stare at me?" the liaison all but yelled.

"Deeks," Callen warned.

"WHAT?" Deeks yelled back, the rage on his face not quite concealing his sadness and self-doubt.

One look at the detective's face, and Callen went back to three years prior, when Deeks shoved the muzzle of his gun into the dirty cop's shoulder.

_"He's not worth it, Deeks!" he had reminded. The entire team stood around, wondering, wishing they knew how to rescue one of their own. Callen had talked Marines off ledges, and Sam had talked shooters on the brink off massacres._

_But in the end, it was Kensi who stopped him. "Deeks! Put it down!" And the conflicted man had slowly removed his gun, ejected the shell, and handed it to the woman he trusted._

In that second, Callen knew who could stop Deeks' (probably PTSD-induced) outburst.

"Deeks, I need you to calm down." The agent realized this confrontation could go any number of really bad ways, especially with the detective under pressure and armed. He slowly started edging towards Deeks' pack, needing to get to a sat phone before his friend completely snapped.

"Deeks, please, just listen to me. I'm sorry! I should have been listening to you."

"No, you're not! You don't care!"

_Just a few more feet…_ "Deeks, I care. Sam cares—you saved his life. Eric and Nell, they care about you. Hetty sees you as one of hers. Kensi…" His voice trailed off. He didn't really know what to say there, but the statement had bought him enough time to get to his phone.

"Deeks, please, you need to believe me." Callen mashed the call button. _C'mon, Eric, pick up_.

"Yeah, Deeks," the techie responded.

"It's Callen, where's Kensi?" Callen hissed.

"Um…"

"No time for ums, Eric, I need Kensi pronto!"

Callen turned back to his current partner. "Deeks, you are one of us. I need you to trust me."

"KENSI!" Callen could hear Eric's muffled yell. Then a shuffling noise, static as the phone changed hands.

"Callen?" the junior agent asked.

"Kenz, it's Deeks. I have no idea what set him off, but he just lost it."

"Put me on speaker."

"…you're just saying that to make me be quiet. You don't want me out here, you don't want me on your team," the surfer rambled.

"Deeks!" Kensi called.

"Wha…Kensi?"

"Deeks, listen to me, please."

"What is it, Kensi?"

"Give it to him," Kensi told Callen quietly. He flicked the phone off speaker and handed it to the distraught detective.

As Deeks paced away from the camp, Callen sagged against a tree, still shaking from the tense encounter. He took a couple of deep breaths, trying to reign in the adrenaline coursing through his body.

Callen moved to lean back in the hammock, interlacing his fingers behind his head in an attempt to find a more comfortable position. Hetty must be really upset at him for the scrambled-eggs-triggered-fist-fight incident.

Then it hit him, like a gurkha's knife to the heart. _I thought of my partner as a suspect._

Callen turned around, thumping his forehead into the tree. Over and over, the thought accused him. _I treated my partner like a suspect. I thought of Deeks like a bad guy._

Blindly, he groped for his sat phone, punching in Sam's number by muscle memory.

"Hi, Sam's driving, this is Chin," the Five-0 detective greeted him.

Callen fought to stabilize his voice. "It's Callen. I need to talk to him."

"Is everything alright?" Detective Kelley inquired.

"I just…need to talk to Sam," Callen replied blankly.

"G., are you okay?" Sam asked.

"I'm not hurt, Sam."

"What's wrong, G?"

Callen sighed. "I thought of my partner…like a suspect."

**A/N**: Reviews, please? I promise, the next chapter you will figure out what in the world happened.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N**: As promised, you get to find out what in the world is going on. Well, mostly...

**Chapter 11**

Eric's yell for Kensi jerked Gibbs back to fully awake. He lay quietly, listening, until he finally identified the anomaly in the night-time soundscape.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

It sounded suspiciously like someone banging their head against a wall.

_Bishop._

Gibbs swung out of bed and slipped to the door of the analysts' room. "Bishop?"

When she didn't reply, he knocked sharply before pushing the door open. The room carried all the marks that she had been analyzing, with files arranged in an arc on her bed. Gibbs walked slowly to the analyst, gently turning her around to face him.

"Bishop. Breathe."

"It just doesn't—"

"Have a cheese puff." He held out the container.

With her mouth filled, Gibbs guided her back to the file array and leaned against a dresser. "What doesn't make sense?"

"This entire situation! Why would you be running weapons through the boondocks of south Mississippi? Why would 'shiners be involved in the weapons trade? What's a Mexican crime lord doing mixed up in this?"

"If starting at the end isn't working, why don't you start from the beginning?"

"Where's the beginning?" the analyst wondered out loud. "Is it in Mexico, with whoever is buying the weapons, when they started 'shining?"

"Start with what you learned first," Gibbs replied. "All the way back to the ATF."

_A large crew of NCIS/Five-0 Agents invaded the Biloxi BATFE office that morning. Nell and Ellie Bishop both were assigned to the group because of their positions as analysts. Because sending all fifteen agents would be slightly overkill, the pair was accompanied only by the three team leaders: Gibbs, Callen, and McGarrett._

_The ATF (BATFE was too much of a mouthful for Ellie to even use thinking) agent who greeted them at the door might as well have had "redneck" stamped on his forehead. (Nell was quick to point out, however, that he was not Redneck with a capital R, but didn't elaborate.) Well, his forehead was actually covered by the khaki Stetson perched on his head (Nell correctly pegged him as a transplanted Texan), but from the top of the Stetson to the bottom of his cowboy boots, the agent was one hundred percent southern. He carried a Kimber Model 1911 .45 prominently perched on his right hip, the quick-draw holster attached his wide leather belt. Dressed in a plaid button-down and dark wash jeans, Agent Wilson (as he introduced himself) seemed to confirm the rumors that messing with a Mississippi ATF agent was a very not good idea._

_Even if Wilson wasn't a "capital R" redneck, the kid—well, junior agent—working the inside desk definitely was. He didn't look a day older than 18 to Bishop (though when Eric ran a background check, he was actually 21), though his diminutive stature (Callen made him look short) was more than outweighed by the muscle occasionally noticeable under his shirt. Introduced simply as Carter, Jackson "Jack" Carter was a south Mississippi boy born and bred, who wore work boots by choice and a baseball cap as if it was a religion. _

_It turned out the kid was their saving grace; Wilson pretty obviously neither liked nor trusted the agents. He answered their questions curtly and with no additional information. No, crime hadn't changed significantly in the past five years; no, he didn't know of any heavy or unusual weapons being used or sold; no, he hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary in the past few weeks. There was no organized crime in the Biloxi area to speak of; "only problem worth mentionin' 'round here is white lightning."_

_Callen was fixing to call Eric and pull any information they had on White Lightning, thinking it might be an up-and-coming local gang, but Nell saved him the embarrassment. "Callen, white lightning's moonshine."_

_About then, Carter slipped out of the office to offer his assistance. He immediately pegged McGarrett as a SEAL and Gibbs as a marine, and was more than willing to help at least them with whatever information he could scrape together. Not that much scraping was necessary—Carter was either extremely bored or had an encyclopedic memory, because he rattled off the crime statistics for all the surrounding counties from the past five years, from memory. Overall, crime in general and homicide and robbery in specific had been on the decrease, the past year included. As for moonshine, the 'shiners that he knew of didn't consider drugs, drive under the influence, swear excessively, speed, steal, or hurt people. In fact, aside from working in an inherently illegal business, they sounded like model citizens. _

_He did inform them that there had been some new runners in town who caused some more problems a few months back; all of them either cleaned up their act or were currently resting in prison. Their signature was sports cars and pump-action .410 shotguns; if the team happened to run into any more of that crew, just give him a call and he would be more than happy to arrest them._

_Not to keep them or anything, Carter continued, but he had heard rumors about a new pot-to-counter group further out in the sticks who ran much more like a gang then a business. They cooked day and night, guarding their stills with "thugs" and posting signs warning hunters to stay away. Instead of handing the 'shine off to runners as was the custom, they ran it themselves, and way past the usual stop in Jackson. Most South Mississippi 'shine goes as far north as Jackson but no farther; the scuttlebutt was these guys were running at least as far as the state line and possibly to Memphis or beyond. The runners he had mentioned could very well have been with them. He had plenty more semi-information if they needed it, and would be sure to keep an ear to the ground about the new guys. _

_When Carter saw Wilson stepping into the front room, he hastily gave them a slip of paper with his private number and dashed back inside._

_"Sounds like the crew out in the sticks could be our guys," McGarrett commented. _

_Bishop was inclined to agree with him, but didn't want to jump to conclusions. "If they were hypothetically running guns, Memphis would be a logical place to hand them off to the next guys down the line."_

_"Or they could be staying in Memphis," Nell added. "It's not exactly the nicest place around."_

_Callen had called Carter up over lunch to ask where a good place for keeping an ear to the ground might be. The young agent gladly gave them the name of a local diner and bar, complete with the best areas for listening in on conversations._

_The crew had filtered in a few at a time, Callen and Sam hanging on one end of the bar, Kensi and Deeks at the other while Gibbs and Tony covered the dining room former closest to the door. Five-0 had set up camp in the back room, while the unanimous decision was for Nell and Ellie to hang across the street in the bookstore to keep a more distant eye on things. _

_It all started with Nell's Mazda. Her present from Hetty was a red MazdaSpeed 3, a small, fast stick shift hatchback. She and Ellie had intentionally been projecting a bit of the 'bad girl' vibe, but Nell hadn't realized just how much until a man approached her on a bench by the Mazda. "That yours?" he asked. She replied short and to the point._

_"New in town?"_

_"Stayin' a few months," she replied, easily slipping into a central-Mississippi accent._

_"You maybe interested in pickin' up some extra cash?" the guy asked. About then Nell noticed another man cut of the same cloth watching her. Thankfully, McGarrett was watching him._

_"Depends," she replied nonchalantly. "What kinda cash we talkin' here?"_

_"The fast, easy, clean kind," the man replied. "We give you a package, you deliver it, you get paid. That simple. Your call if you want to deliver a certain day or don't, we just offer the jobs. Completely anonymous, no strings, no commitment."_

_"I'm interested," Nell replied noncommittally. _

_The man nodded. "6__th__ and Elm, 7pm if you're still thinkin' about it. Bring your friend," and he jerked his thumb toward McGarrett._

_Within 24 hours, almost the entire team was under cover with little idea exactly what they were getting into. Nell had skillfully dropped a few indicators that she had some illegal activities under her belt while hinting that she had some friends in town with her who were in the private security business and some others who were good at souping up cars. The next morning Kensi, Gibbs, and Catherine were immediately accepted into a car-repair front for upgrading what they suspected were smuggling cars. Two hours after that, Callen, Deeks, Danny, and Kono were hired as security, after hinting they had been kicked out of the legitimate private security business. _

_After lunch, Nell had gotten a call on her thug-provided burn phone that there was a delivery available for that night if she wanted it. She accepted, and Sam and Chin volunteered to be the tail, leaving DiNozzo and McGee as the available backup. _

"Okay, Bishop, assume for a minute that these are our guys. Why are they 'shining in the middle of the woods, and how are they getting the guns?"

"The 'shining is cover, it's pretty obvious that the old blood in the BATFE isn't really interested in hunting down moonshiners who aren't causing trouble so it's a safe one at that. As for the guns…" Her gaze landed on a map pinpointing the operation in the woods, less than five miles from two ports. Just like that, the pieces fell into place.

Bishop dashed into Ops. "Eric, pull the list of estimated dates of delivery here. Please."

Eric tossed the data onto the screen. "Cross reference with dates of active hurricanes in the gulf," Bishop continued.

"That's, like, a 90% match," Eric responded, shocked.

"They're using the cover of all the ships coming into port to move the guns," Bishop concluded.

"Sounds like we get to wait around for a hurricane," Gibbs replied grimly.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Nell and Steve met the buyer at 2300 of some state highway in the middle of nowhere. Nell handed over the box and took the cash while McGarrett pinpointed the exact GPS location for Eric.

As the guy pulled past them onto the highway, Nell jotted down his plate and handed the paper to McGarrett. "Call Eric, we're heading back."

"Eric, we're headed back," Steve updated him.

"The Overwatch on the box is coming in clear and strong. Sam and Chin just let me know they're going to tail him a while, I've got McGee and Tony standing by if you guys need them. Got the plates?"

"Yeah," Nell replied, putting the phone on speaker. "It's a Madison County, Alabama tag."

"And you know this, how?" McGarrett asked.

"Four seven echo romeo eight tango two lima," she rattled off. "Four seven is the Madison County designation."

"And m'lady would be correct," Eric replied. "Car's registered to a Steven Wilson of Ardmore, Alabama."

"Hold it, I thought the guy looked familiar. Is he by chance any relation to our neighborhood ATF Agent Wilson?" Nell inquired.

"Just a sec, Nellster…" McGarrett shot Nell a questioning look, and she responded with a warning one. "Um, yeah, his brother to be specific."

"So we have the brother of a Biloxi ATF Agent picking up a mystery box more than six hours from his home. What in the world?"

"I'm checking to see if he got a hotel…bingo. He booked a double queen at the Hampton in Jackson."

"Any traffic cams near the parking lot to see if he came with a friend?" Nell asked.

"See, this is why I need you, I would never have thought of that. Accessing the database now…and…I don't have a full view, but I do have another four seven tag in the camera. Running it now."

"Okay, run the brothers Wilson through AFIS and INTERPOL, too."

"Hurry up and get here, I'm already running stuff for Bishop."

"Find anything?"

"She's pretty sure they're using the influx of ships when there's a hurricane in the gulf to hide the arms coming through the ports. The hidey-hole in the woods is less than five miles from two port buildings."

"Hmm…" Nell pondered.

"Oh, and our non-jerk ATF agent may not be exactly what he seems. A little more digging turned up that he never actually applied to ATF; after graduating from Copiah-Lincoln County Junior College with a degree in Criminal Justice, he applied to Mississippi State University, the Lincoln County Sherriff's Department, and the Jackson police. He didn't get accepted any of those places, but it looks like someone pretty high up in the Jackson police forwarded his resume to the ATF."

"Okay, sounds like the guy was chasing all the leads and seeing what panned out to me," Nell replied.

"Yeah, except the part where he's been doing extensive research on FLETCand keeping up with happenings in multiple federal agencies, including but not limited to the Agency, the Bureau, AFOSI, and NCIS."

"What sort of keeping up?"

"Following active cases and reading pretty much any reports that are released."

"Sounds like he's either bored, suspicious, or both."

"I'm going with suspicious. Probably using his little-known second major in computer science, he's been doing some digging on Agent Wilson, as well."

"Investigating his own boss?"

"That's what it looks like."

"Okay, keep us posted."

"Will do. Bye, Nell, drive safe."

"Bye Eric."

"What just happened?" McGarrett asked.

"Eric filled me in, and I gave him what we had," Nell replied evasively.

"Uh-huh, right, you honestly think I'm buying that?" he asked.

"Why wouldn't you?"

"That in no way explains why you look more relaxed than you have been since we left, even though this entire mess just got a lot more complicated, why you lost not only the accent but the bitter inflection and the edge to your voice that has also been there since we left, why I saw the first genuine smile out of you all day, or why your eyes sparkled when you heard his voice."

Nell resorted to the best defense she knew. "So, if I were to call Danny right now and put him on speaker, would you naturally keep your cover voice, your illegal-activity-induced tension, and your sour, don't mess with me look?"

"No, maybe, and depends on what mood he's in."

Nell didn't reply, and McGarrett saw no point in pursuing the conversation. He did decide to keep a better eye on Nell, because even if neither of them were willing to admit it, she had someone extra-special waiting for her to get home safe. He had wished every one of Catherine's partners would keep an extra-close eye on her, and this was a chance to pay it forward.

xxxxxx

After Callen finished talking to Sam, he tried to settle back a bit, but couldn't shake the hair-trigger alertness lingering in his system. The feeling was justified when he heard someone who definitely wasn't Deeks approaching the camp cautiously. The agent slipped a hand into a camp-chair bag, closing around the comfortable bulk of his assault rifle. The other hand pulled his handgun from its holster, keeping it ready but hidden behind his leg.

A few moments later, Agent Carter pivoted around a tree, clearing the camp with his handgun even as Callen snapped his to firing position.

"Carter."

"Take your hand out of the bag slowly," the agent replied.

Callen extracted his hand and cautiously moved to his inside jacket pocket for his shield.

"I'm going to need to see your badge, too," he replied, carefully removing the ID but keeping it hidden.

Carter likewise reached into his inside jacket pocket, bringing out a shield before flipping it to his ATF ID.

Callen opened his, revealing his NCIS card.

Slowly, both agents lowered and holstered their weapons.

"So, what brings you out here, Carter?" Callen asked.

"I was about to ask you the same thing," the green agent replied, clearly not quite trusting Callen.

"You first."

**A/N**: Dun Dun Dun Duuuuun.

I'm sorry, that was the best place to break it.

Reviews?


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